


English Breakfast

by MDidact (SaigonTimeMD)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaigonTimeMD/pseuds/MDidact
Summary: Synopsis: Amélie gets a little frisky with Lena in the morning while the latter is trying to just enjoy her Coco Pops. And then it gets emotional.





	

                Lena, still in the boyshorts and West Ham t-shirt she slept in, finished pouring the Coco Pops into her bowl and looked back over her shoulder to the hallway that led into the kitchen. Through the slightly-ajar door at the end, she could see Amélie still asleep on the bed, lying on her side and wrapped tightly in covers. The former Talon assassin had been given (mostly) free range of the facilities almost two weeks ago, but this was the first time she had chosen _not_ to voluntarily return to her secured quarters at night. Instead, she had spent the night in Lena’s suite and in Lena’s bed and with Lena and _with_ Lena. The British girl’s face flushed at the memory of last night’s experience, and she quietly added milk to her cereal bowl, wishing the hum of the chronal accelerator mounted in her chest was a bit less loud, even muffled as it was by her shirt.

                After making more noise than she would’ve liked while picking out a spoon, Lena sat down at the kitchen table and hungrily dug into her Coco Pops; Amélie might not have been a morning person, but Lena definitely was, and although she’d spent as much time cuddled up in bed with her blue-skinned lover that morning as she could stand, eventually her stomach won out. She brought up the morning reports on her datapad that Athena had compiled during the night: more anti-Omnic protests in London, an attack on a Brazilian embassy, another Sombra ARG, etc. Quickly looking around as if there was someone about who might not approve, Lena flipped the datapad’s primary window over to VidTube, where a video of a red panda terrified of its own tail was currently trending.

                _I’m an adult_ , she thought, _I can watch dumb videos if I bloody well feel like it. I’ll bet Morrison—well, probably not Morrison, but maybe Angela—no, probably not her either. Wait, I’ll bet Mei watches—_

                The sensation of cool lips lightly kissing her left ankle and long fingernails gently touching her calf completely derailed Lena’s train of thought.

                “Good morning, Amélie!” she stammered, and tried to lean down to look underneath the table. A blue hand rose, caught her chin, and pushed her back up, although Lena still got an eyeful: there was Amélie, on her knees and naked as the day she was born, planting soft kisses up and down the side of her lover’s lower leg as if it was the most reasonable way to say good morning. Not entirely sure what the blue beauty expected of her, Lena giggled nervously. “Uh, well, I’m just…I’m just going to finish my cereal, and you, uh, you just do whoev—whatever it is you, uh, feel like, yeah love?”

                Amélie made no verbal reply, and instead relocated her kissing up to Lena’s thigh, now gently caressing both legs with her slowly-warming hands. Lena’s toes curled reflexively, and a spark shot up her spine. As nonchalantly as she could, she spooned another mouthful of Coco Pops, but found herself unable to concentrate on the cute animal videos anymore.

                _Is this a French thing? Is this how the French do it? Is this just an Amélie thing? Wait, is this going to be every morning? Every morning she stays over, anyway. I should ask. Wait, if I ask, would that ruin the moment? I don’t want to ruin the moment. Oh gosh, this is nice. This is really, really nice. This is really, really, REALLY—_

Amélie’s teeth scraped the upper band of Lena’s yellow-and-white striped boyshort panties, pulling the elastic strap just an inch before letting it snap back. Goosebumps rose on Lena’s skin, and her spoon dropped into the half-full bowl of chocolate cereal. The ex-assassin softly but insistently nipped at Lena through the fabric of her underwear like an animal trying to fight its way into a bag of food without tipping off its owner, but the thoroughly-flustered British operative was most certainly tipped off, and she squirmed with each needy attempt.

                “Ah, alright love, I, uh, I see what you’re, uh, what you’re trying to get at, yeah,” she stuttered, leaning back slightly in her chair. Amélie’s tongue dragged slowly, lasciviously over Lena’s swiftly soaking panties, and feeling the blue assassin’s lukewarm breath brush her clit, a thin piece of fabric the only separation between her love button and her lover’s eager mouth, was the final straw. “Okay, alright, okay, you win, have at it!” Lena raised her hips off of the seat and Amélie’s skillful hands quickly pulled the striped boyshorts over and down. The British girl sucked air between her teeth as her bare bum came back down on the cold metal of the chair, but her hiss turned to a moan as Amélie cupped Lena’s legs, spread them, and went to work.

                Amélie’s lips were already warm from Lena’s body heat, and they sealed around her clitoris, pulling the hood back and leaving her completely at the mercy of the sniper’s wicked tongue, which relentlessly encircled and stroked it long and lovingly. The datapad fell from Lena’s hands and she braced herself on the edge of the table, but Amélie’s oral technique was as precise and inescapable as her sniping, and Lena’s vision started to blur after only a few moments of the ex-assassin’s tender ministrations.

                “Bloody hell Amélie!” Lena gasped, and she couldn’t keep her eyes up. She looked down and saw the former Talon agent looking surprisingly relaxed: eyes closed, head bobbing slightly, full purple lips locked around Lena’s weak point, long black hair draped over her back and shoulders, hiding all but the very edge of her back tattoo. Lena’s hips bucked in response to a particularly long, slow tongue stroke, and Amélie’s mouth went into overdrive, sucking and widening to envelop as much of her lover’s trimmed pussy as possible, soaking it with spit and lavishing it with her tongue. Lena was so hot now, she felt like ripping off her shirt, but she settled for reaching under it and playing with her breasts – or she would have, had Amélie not quickly batted her hands away. The long, blue, slender fingers slid upwards and caressed Lena’s breasts for her, tweaking the nipples just slightly harder than the British girl had been prepared for, and massaging them in a circular motion. Lena, barely together now, settled for just running her fingers through Amélie’s shining raven hair and moaning heavily.

                It was just as Lena tipped over the edge that she finally heard a noise from Amélie: a low, guttural groan as she doubled her efforts against her lover’s jerking hips. Even then, it could’ve been just a reaction to Lena’s legs tightening around her head as the first wave of orgasm crashed through her, but a small puddle beneath the blue ex-assassin’s legs (that neither of the two women could’ve seen at that moment anyway) revealed the truth of the matter. Lena stiffened and squeezed around Amélie, her toes curling under and her fingers digging into the blue woman’s scalp; the white-hot fire of ecstasy spread out from her groin until it enveloped her slender, fit body in one pulsating glorious moment that seemed to make her muscles vibrate like strings on a violin. As the aftershocks receded, Lena realized that she was shaking.

                Amélie quickly withdrew and got up from under the table, her expression, as usual, unreadable, although she did carefully lick every last bit of Lena’s juices from her mouth. Lena, almost completely out of breath, smiled at her, and gave her a goofy little thumbs up.

                “That was, uh, unexpected, love,” she said, swallowing to wet her dry mouth, and brushing a sweaty strand of hair off of her face. “Is this, uh, is this your usual…morning ‘thing?’”

                “When I belonged to Talon, they conditioned me to pleasure my handler every morning after activation,” Amélie replied impassively. “The sun is up, I am _exité_.” Lena’s expression turned from satisfied to horrified, and she jumped up to her bare feet.

                “That’s—that’s terrible! Amélie, I’m so sorry! I had no idea!”

                “ _C’est la vie_.” Amélie said blankly with a shrug. She turned toward the kitchen cabinet, took a step, then turned, bent down, and gave Lena a quick peck on the cheek, transforming her expression again from horror to a strange mixture of pity, love, and desire that mankind hasn’t come up with a word for yet.

                “You’re so tall,” Lena said, which felt like the dumbest thing she could have _possibly_ said at that moment – or any moment really – and the urge to dart past the blue Frenchwoman and launch herself out of the window and onto the coastal rocks below became almost overwhelming. Amélie nodded, turned away, took two more steps, and then came back.

                The second kiss took Lena more by surprise than anything else that had happened that morning, last night, or any time before that; Amélie’s hands closed around her upper arms and pulled her close, practically mashing their bodies together. Her mouth opened to meet Amélie’s descending face before Lena even consciously knew what was going on, and their lips locked tightly, their tongues meeting in the middle and dancing with one another. Lena’s arms wrapped around Amélie’s waist, and she stood up on tip-toe, anything to bring her even a centimeter closer. Time seemed to blur around the two (mostly-naked) women, and Lena couldn’t have cared less.

                It was Amélie who broke the kiss, pulling back just as suddenly as she had come in, although it took her a few seconds to release Lena’s arms. The British girl seemed in a daze, and clarity only crossed her face when Amélie smiled – or created an expression as close to a smile as she could approximate. Before then, there had always been a trace of the sardonic about Amélie’s face, even at her most magnanimous, but what Lena saw on her lover’s face, in those slightly-raised lips, in those unnaturally sympathetic golden eyes, was as uncynical as anything in the world.

                “Amélie, I—” Lena began, but the Frenchwoman quickly put a finger to her lips.

                “Lena, eat your…” Amélie trailed off as she looked at the bright pink bowl of soggy Coco Pops, the milk now having turned chocolate, and the plastic green ‘DJ Lúcio’-edition frog spoon floating in it. The datapad was still looping the red panda video. “…breakfast.”

                “I’m an adult,” Lena said, not sounding convincing in the slightest.

                “I know,” Amélie replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I’ve been on the WidowTracer train since day one, so I figured it was time for me to actually bang something out. I didn’t really intend for this to get as feels-y as it did, but I’ve noticed I have a habit of doing that; what can I say, I think emotions and motivations are big components of the sexual experience. Besides, what's a good WidowTracer fic without at least a little suffering.


End file.
